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Adam gets home and slams the door, still unreasonable and unwilling to process the events of the evening. As much as he loves working on The Voice, when he finds a truly deserving, worthy talented artist that deserves to just succeed outright and they don’t win, it feels like a stab in the heart.
He knows Matt will go on to do great things, but Adam doesn’t want to rationalize the night at all. He just wants to drink alone and forget that reality television exists. He’s clutching the bottle of patron in his hand, a gift from Blake, meant to be a holiday exchange but now felt like a cold, consolation prize, one that he has every intention of using.
Adam is four tequila shots deep when the door opens; he forgot the bastard had a key, he knows all the codes to get in. Blake is still in his suit, tie loosened, hands in his pockets as he enters the living room apprehensively.
“Started drinking without me?”
Adam snorts, and downs another shot, feeling it burn before his senses dull again, unsure of what to do or say next.
He knows it isn’t Blake’s fault; it is America’s vote, after all. But stupid Blake and his crazy fans and his endearing contestants, making it harder and harder to feel like he’s doing any good on the damn show. Stupid, charming, attractive Blake.
He holds out the tequila bottle, and things get a little blurry after that.
Pain. That’s the overwhelming sensation he feels as he wakes up, pain all over his body. He racks his fuzzy brain for the cause to the effect – he remembers tequila, and spies the empty bottle of patron beside the bed, so that explains the killer headache he has. His sore muscles are harder to place; he wonders if he actually fought with Blake, punched him in his stupid, charming attractive face. Then little snippets are coming back to him slowly but surely; everything had too much teeth and tongue, Blake asking him to give him everything, eventually being pinned by Adam, moaning underneath him as Adam worked out his frustration into him.
He feels like crap, emotionally and physically. Anger sex has it’s good points, but the aftermath has Adam wanting to roll over and sleep for another day. They never fight over stupid things like this, and he wonders if Blake is just as pissed at him. Speaking of Blake…
His phone lights up with a text and Adam just has enough energy to read it.
“Left this morning. I didn’t think you wanted to see my face when you woke up. It’s okay, I’m fine. Going back to Oklahoma today. Have a great holiday. Let me know if you still want to come out for Christmas.”
Adam contemplates throwing the phone against the wall, but figures it would be more adult to respond, even if it is with a basic, if passive aggressive, “ok”. As soon as it’s sent, he rolls over and goes back to sleep.
When Adam wakes up, the sun is already setting, but at least his head isn’t throbbing anymore. As he stretches out, his muscles protesting, he remembers Blake’s text. When he goes to read it again, he realizes he has another text waiting from Blake.
All it says is “I love you.”
Adam does not respond.